This is not, as you may have expected, a political diatribe, but a plea for Jewel the chicken to get down off the fence, and for Winter the chicken to get back in the goddamn coop.
Turns out we’ve gotten used to old, slow, unadventurous chickens.
Young, feisty, punk chickens are a very different kettle of fish.
They love trying repeatedly to get in the house, pecking anything that moves, jumping on the roof of the coop and from there onto the fence (which is but a short six-foot
flight fall into the woods) and refusing point-blank to go back in the coop, even when threatened with the Dreadful Spacehopper of Doom – a threat so dreadful that more conservative chickens crap themselves at the very sight of it.
Well, they crap themselves at the sight of anything, to be honest, but the Dreadful Spacehopper of Doom has been a last resort weapon of mass chicken terror in the garden for a couple of years now.
We were almost late for school this morning, despite setting aside an extra five minutes for chicken-related duties. Those new girls are fast, cheeky and afraid of nothing!